Inspired
by thebravestmanIeverknew
Summary: A collection of Dramione drabbles - not songfics, but inspired by what my iPod gave me on shuffle. Various lengths, mostly compliant, mostly war/post-war.
1. Drabble 1: Helping Hand

**Author's note: **A collection of Dramione drabbles/scenes/stories/one-shots that I wrote at different times, inspired by different songs. Not really songfics, but there you have it. I don't own Harry Potter, or Draco, or Hermione, or the idea of love, I'm afraid. :P Enjoy - read and review!

**Title: **_Helping Hand_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_Hey Jude - the Beatles  
><em>**Summary: **_Draco watches Hermione as she suffers through the aftermath - what will he do? _

* * *

><p>He stood behind a collapsed arch, watching.<p>

She placed one foot in front of the other - walking with great difficulty - she had trouble standing up, she was so exhausted.

Starting at one end of the line, she bent down, closing the eyelids of each of the corpses in turn. She paused at the first death eater - there was so much hesitation in that one moment, so much for him to read.

The years of abuse came crashing down on his shoulders, just as his world had crumbled, leaving him with the greatest burden anyone has ever born - guilt. He blamed himself for everything, and ran away from the consequences.

He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of sobs. She had fallen down in front of - was that Fred Weasley? Next to Profes-_Remus_ Lupin, and Tonks. The tears flowed down her cheeks, onto her hands as they covered her face. She wiped the dampness off on her dirty jeans, staying where she was, kneeling on the ground.

Cautiously, he stepped out of his hiding place. Maybe in this new world, he would be given a second chance. Maybe he would _earn_ his second chance.

She looked up at him, drying her eyes, a defiant expression on her features, streaked with dust and blood, and who knew what else.

He approached her, and all time seemed to freeze. The moment centered on them - no one else mattered. Suddenly, he was not as sure of himself as he had been before. His intent was still to fix things - but how? With this girl - young woman - whom he had abused - violently so, if only with words - for so many years.

Her hand trailed to her pocket, where her wand lay semi-hidden.

_She suspects me._ That made everything twice as difficult. Still -

Slowly, his hand reached, out. Bewildered, she took it - and he pulled her up, into an embrace. His arms surrounded her protectively, something firm for her to hold on to, now that everything had come crashing down.

"Let me help."


	2. Drabble 2: Mesh and Lace

**Title:** _Mesh and Lace_  
><strong>Inspiration:<strong> _I Melt With You - Modern English  
><em>**Summary: **_Draco's sudden revelation in the midst of the fighting changes some things, he hopes. _

* * *

><p>The flames crept up around him as he tried to find a way out. Potter came flying down to his rescue - damn Potter and his save the world kicks. <em>I suppose I ought to be grateful.<em> They landed outside, somewhere amidst the fighting. Granger dismounted, her arms lingering just a second too long on the Weasel for Draco's liking.

And then she was off - casting spells, hexing, cursing, defeating. Her hair flew in every direction, her torn clothes, scratched face - anything but attractive. Yet - in that moment - something struck him.

Here, at the end of all things, the world crashing down around her face - everything about her seemed so perfect.

Following that thunderous realization was another, even more startling - if he won this war, if he continued helping the Death Eaters - that perfection would die. The beauty - the mesh and lace - would be torn into pieces, tortured - and then killed.

He wasn't going to be an instrument in her destruction. He couldn't kill anyone that innocent - he just couldn't. He didn't have the guts. Even if she _was_ a mudblood.

And so, in an instant, the tides turned. He found himself dueling Dolohov - Bellatrix - Thicknesse - all with surprise etched across their features.

Still, in the end, after Potter had won - no one knew what he had done. He was still Draco Malfoy, Death Eater. It didn't matter. She was alive. And he had helped save her.

**oOo**

"Granger, wait."

She turned around, not expecting him to approach her. He did.

"I - I need to talk to you."

"Obviously."

"Granger - I think - I think I'm in love with you." Best to be blunt, perhaps?

"Malfoy, this _isn't_ funny. And this is _not_ the time, either." She turned to leave.

"Hermione, please. Look at me. I mean it. That I love you."

"Prove it."

"I did - you just weren't paying attention." She frowned. He was desperate - she needed to understand. "Look- during the battle - I - after you saved me from the Fiendfyre - I just... something hit me. I killed Dolohov, you know. And fought with my aunt. And Thicknesse."

She stared up at him wonderingly. "Everyone's asking who killed Dolohov. It was you?" Pause. "Maybe I - misjudged you, Draco. If I did, I'm sorry."

"I didn't expect you to give in that easily," he smiled.

"Yeah, well." Another pause. "You called me Hermione." She walked away - but it wasn't an end to the conversation, he could see that.

"Think about it, will you? There's so much you and I could be, together."

She glanced back, her features hinting at a smile. "We'll see."

He'd have to be content with that for now. But still - the future was open wide...


	3. Drabble 3: Already Broken?

****Title: ****_Already Broken?_  
><strong>Inspiration:<strong> _Better That We Break - Maroon 5  
><em>**Summary: **_Sometimes things are better off left alone - right? _

* * *

><p>Draco couldn't exactly place when it was that he had reached his decision. Sometime during the first week of first year, probably. One of those times that she knew the answers in class, when everyone else stayed mute. Her voice - the way she just <em>knew<em> things - it was truly remarkable. And it killed him, really. Why couldn't any of _his_ girlfriends be that perfect? It was a thought that kept him up at night, pondering the mystery that was Hermione Granger.

**oOo**

_She punched me. She punched me. She punched me... _His thoughts ran on repeat that day as he fled. That was _not_ how things were supposed to be. She - she was a mudblood, for Merlin's sake. And - _she punched me._ Late at night, tenderly running his hand over his injured cheek, he reflected over what had really hurt the most - not the punch itself, no. It was the Weasel telling her - what was it? - "Leave it, he's not worth it." And she didn't deny it. Then again, she had apparently decided he was, right? Because she had hit him, after all? Maybe she'd apologize in the morning.

_She never apologized. _It hurt more than the injury - no, he was _not _fine, _not _okay. He was in pain - emotionally, not physically. Not that anyone would ever notice. Or care. _Things would just be better if you stopped caring about what she said_, he chastised himself. _It'd be better off that way._

**oOo**_  
><em>

Still, he couldn't keep himself - he called her mudblood, jeered at her, insulted her - just to see her respond. Isn't that how it always is? He wouldn't know, of course. If he did, he'd never admit it - that he still cared. He continued chasing her, though, just to hear her say he was a foul git, or a prick, or a stuck-up twat - he meant enough to her for his insults to matter.

**oOo**

"Is that - Hermione Granger?" Pansy was trying to get his attention. His eyes were glued on Krum's gorgeous date. Was it just five minutes ago that he'd been thinking Pansy looked nice because she'd finally done something with her hair? Pity, he had no eyes for her anymore, even if she was his date. When Hermione was in front of him - well, everything disappeared. _That can't possibly be right_. He paused. _Draco, you need to get over this obsession. It'd be better off that way._

**oOo**_  
><em>

He saw her in the library, all alone._ No Weasel or Pottyhead? That's odd._ "Hello, Granger," he began silkily.

She cut him off. "Get lost, git."

It hurt more than he showed - both to her and to himself. _Someone's touchy._

Her cold stare followed him out of the library. _That's all right. She's nothing, anyway. Nothing at all._

**oOo**_  
><em>

He watched as they dragged the Trio into Malfoy Manor. Her jeans were torn - so was her sweater - cuts all over her face - she was dirtier than he'd ever seen her. _Someone's not been seeing their best days. Looks like life's been pretty rough. _He was suddenly keenly aware of his perfectly manicured nails, perfectly combed hair, meticulous dress sense - she sent him a look of pure, unadulterated loathing.

He watched as the Weasel and Pottyhead were sent down into the dungeon.

He watched as Bellatrix cursed her - knocked her down - beat her - screamed at her - demanded information_. Everyone has ups and downs_, he comforted himself.

He watched as Bellatrix cut into - no, no, no. He couldn't do this. He closed his eyes, turning away as the tears fell down his face.

Everything hit him - now, six years later - as he heard her shrieks in his own home.

He loved her - had always loved her - but he would not, could not, should not anymore. They were on opposite sides of this war - and when it ended, one of them would find that their world had broken, crumbled into pieces. There was no way that they could ever be together - in her world or in his. _You need to stop, Draco._ The tears wouldn't, though. Was he crying for her pain or his heartbreak? _It'd be better off this way. Better if we break - even though we were never whole in the first place._


	4. Drabble 4: The Unchosen One

**Title:** _The Unchosen One_  
><strong>Inspiration:<strong> _All the Right Moves - OneRepublic_  
><strong>Summary: <strong>_When Potter has all - what does that make Draco?_

* * *

><p>Potter. Potter. Potter. It was always Potter. Always Potter that got everything - headmaster's favorite, Mr. Popular, adventure, hero - and he had <em>her<em>.

Potter had everything he never did - friends, love, strength, bravery.

It was worst after the war, having lost the little he'd held on to before. He moped down by the lake - only thing he'd ever been good at, moping.

"It's always him - always!" Draco yelled, frustrated. He threw the nearest pebble at the water, watching it sink with a tiny splash.

"Dr-Draco?" She came timidly out of the shadows. He whirled around, angry at his being watched without knowing - it was her.

His anger at the intruder vanished instantly, replaced by anger at himself for letting her see him let go.

She'd never respect him after this. Never.

"What do you-"

Cutting him off by drawing near and placing a hand on his mouth, she beckoned for him to sit down. He obliged, and she placed her hands on shoulders, pressuring him until he lay his head in her lap, somewhat uncertainly.

They stayed like that for a while, silent.

"I'm here if you ever - need to talk, okay? Don't forget that." She bent down, kissing him softly. Without another word, she slipped away, leaving him to his own thoughts.

Maybe Potter didn't have everything. Maybe he had more than he thought. And maybe he wasn't going down, after all.


	5. Drabble 5: Coming?

**Title:**_ Coming?_  
><strong>Inspiration: <strong>_Come Home - OneRepublic  
><em>**Summary: **_Post-war reunion party - will Draco be able to articulate what's on his mind?_

* * *

><p>It was a reunion party, all those from Hogwarts - all who were still alive, in any case. Draco felt like an outsider, pushing through throngs of people in Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor colors - was he the only Slytherin to show? It appeared like it.<p>

The Golden Trio had managed to evade all the attention, seated in a corner, smiling and chatting like the old friends they were.

"Excuse me," he began. They looked up at him, surprised. "I - I - just - I don't know. Never mind." She had looked so confused - why did the one person he needed most not understand?

He'd waited - three years after the war - neither of them had talked, had even tried to approach each other at any gathering, any social event.

And finally, the need grew to be too much - so he stumbled among strangers he knew, trying to find her - and that look - it just killed him. She didn't understand. She was his better half, everything he wanted to be - and couldn't.

With the Weasel - it was just all so wrong. She didn't belong with him - how could she ever think that she did?

He'd waited long enough, made enough excuses to himself - and now, everything else had faded away - all the pretense, the outer covering. It wasn't about Malfoy heir and mudblood, or Slytherin Prince and Gryffindor Princess - it was him, Draco, and her, Hermione. Simple.

He had hoped that all the bad feelings would have subsided by now - that they could actually start being one community, like Potter always said. It was all just empty talk. Draco should have known that it would never happen. He couldn't stop himself from dreaming, though - dreams, ideals, hopes - you wouldn't have guessed it, looking at him. But he did dream, if only to himself. Except now, he'd decided to try and dream out loud - and made himself look like a complete arse.

There was music - people on the dance floor - innocent love, it seemed. Strange, how everything had been so horrifying, and people could find it in themselves to go back to just how it was. He couldn't. He knew he would never be able to, no matter how hard he tried.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared broodingly across the hall.

She came up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder. "Dance?" she asked, smiling nervously.

Without a word, he swept her into his arms, spinning her around, dizzy with happiness.

As the song ended, he cupped her face in his hands, bringing their foreheads close, and whispered softly, his breath caressing her skin.

"You came."


	6. Drabble 6: Cleaning Up Messes

**Title: **_Cleaning Up Messes_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_She Will Be Loved - Maroon 5  
><em>**Summary: **_Hermione is with Ron - right? Or will Draco do something about it?_

* * *

><p>A knock on her door. Hermione is surprised - no one ever comes knocking at this time of day. Ron's out with his colleagues - he wouldn't be back this soon; it's only 9 o'clock. And it's much too late for anyone else - right?<p>

A dripping wet Draco Malfoy is standing at her door. She's tempted to send him out the door with a sound kick, but her conscience says otherwise - and the look in his eyes tells her he's changed, despite the ever-present smirk.

"Come in," she says uncertainly. "I'll - er - get you a towel, then, shall I?"

A few minutes later, he's shivering on her couch, stripped of everything but his very innermost layers of clothing. They're soaked, clinging to his lean Quidditch-seeker frame, outlining muscles that Hermione never really noticed before. After casting a spell to dry him off, she sits awkwardly in a chair as far away as possible.

"Why are you here?" Her quiet voice questions.

He looks up at her, eyes desperate despite the smug expression. "I - I missed making fun of you."

"You _what?_"

"I missed - well, I missed the look in your eyes when I called you mudblood."

"Malfoy - what _are_ you on about?"

He's pleading now. "Please - tell me - if I called you mudblood, insulted you - right here, right now - would you care? Would you punch me again?"

"I don't know - what kind of question is that?"

"Granger, do you still care? I know you did, once. Otherwise my words would have meant nothing - you would have ignored me, listened to Weasel when he told you I wasn't worth it."

"I - I still don't know, Malfoy. I'm happy here, with Ron. Really."

He sighs. He should have known that - why did he ever come looking for her in the first place? It was all a big mistake.

She notices that he's still shivering, despite the warm, dry clothes he's wearing.

"You're happy. Right." His voice is hollow, his steel gray eyes empty - no arrogance sparks like it did before, no self-satisfied smirk manifests itself in those mercury orbs. "I should go, then."

"That soon?" She gets up as he does, both heading to the door. "Malfoy - wait. Maybe - I should come with you. You look a mess, really."

"You - you would?"

"Of course," she smiles slightly. "I think I know when someone needs a friend, you know."

He accepts gratefully, and they walk out of the house together, protected from the rain by the spell he casts. "Drink?" he asks. "For old time's sake?"

She sighs. "I must be crazy, but sure. Three Broomsticks?"

"Too many people. Leaky Cauldron."

Nodding, she grasps his arm as they apparate into the throngs - even this late at night, London's sidestreets are still busy. She's amazed.

He slowly opens the creaky door, and they enter the moderately busy pub. "Two butterbeers To-er, Will."

"New times, new bartenders," she reminds him, that enigmatic smiling once again gracing her lips.

They sip in silence, not sure what to say. And then -

A laughing, grinning Ron drags a giggling, tipsy Lavender down the steps. He freezes at the sight of Hermione.

"Her-Hermione," he gulps. "What - what are you?"

Tears glisten her eyes as she stands up, honey eyes fired red with fury. "You - you - foul - heartless git!" She sends a flock of yellow canaries after him with her wand. They scare him more than seems necessary, and he runs into a corner.

"Oi! Call them off!" He attempts to defend himself.

"You are a bloody terrible excuse for a husband - is this where you've been, having drinks with your colleagues? This has been going on for -"

"Yeah, well, what do you expect, when I have a sodding prude for a wife who won't even-"

"Stop! Just - just stop. Just go away." She breaks down, sobbing onto the counter.

He pauses for a moment, then heads to the door without a second glance. Seconds later, he reenters it, slamming his wedding and engagement rings down on the bar-top beside his sobbing ex-wife before exiting a second time.

Draco isn't sure how to respond, and before he can decide, she is up - apologizing for ruining his evening, leaving the rings on the counter - she's gone.

This is his chance. He can't screw it up again - he's screwed it up for a decade now, and this is it.

He goes after her, knowing that she won't apparate back just yet. Running down sidestreets and alleyways, he finally finds her, hunched down on the sidewalk. She's wet - from the tears or from the rain? He's not wholly sure - she's crying quite a bit.

"Granger," he begins.

She looks up. "How did you find me?" Amazed.

"Intuition," he replies simply. "Look - come home with me. Please? You fixed me - let me fix you."

"I don't know what I did to fix you, but this is far more than you know. You're biting off more than you ever want to chew - and anyways, I'm a filthy mudblood, aren't I?" She stands up and tries to apparate.

He stops her. "Listen, please. _Please._ You know where I live - and I'm all alone, now, too. Just - just come, if you need someone. For my sake, too." He lets her go - she's gone, vanished on the spot.

Sighing, he too returns home, hoping...

**oOo**

He stands on her corner the next few days, in the middle of April showers, watching her as she goes to work - comes home - runs errands. It seems as though Ron has left, and she has stayed behind, alone.

Finally, on Friday, a week later, he catches her wrist.

She looks up, disbelieving. "You again?"

"I've been here, waiting for you, all this time."

The look in her eyes tells him all he needs to know. He apparates home, confident that she will follow.

**oOo**

A day later, he's dozing off in the living room, and he hears a tap on his window, right by his ear. The small noise startles him as it echoes through his big, lonely house.

In moments, the door is open, greetings are exchanged, and they're both seated - closer than last time.

"You came."

"Of course I came. I don't have anything else anymore - honestly, I'm a mess, Draco. And not the kind of mess that a drink with an old nemesis is likely to fix, either."

He laughs bitterly. "We really hated each other, didn't we?" Pause. "Seems silly, now, all that."

"Everything we did seems so - childish. Except for the war."

Awkward silence.

"He's gone, then, I take it?"

"His stuff was gone by the time I got home. I'm not seeking pity, least of all from you, Malfoy. Even if I do admit that I'm a mess, it doesn't mean that other people need to fix it for me."

"You've always fixed everyone else's problems, haven't you?"

"So I should be perfectly capable of solving my own."

"And if you're not?"

"Then - then - failure's just not an option at this point."

"Granger-"

"I don't want to discuss it. Can we - change the conv-"

"_Hermione_. Running away is not going to solve anything."

She doesn't reply right away. When she does, she's struggling with her words, as if trying to articulate something she's not entirely sure can be said. "You - you called me - Hermione." It's more than just the name. It's the way he says it - the concern, the affection - something she'd never heard in his voice before. Something she'd never heard in Ron's voice, either, come to think of it.

"I - I suppose I did."

"Why?"

"Because I've grown up, and realized that there was so much head and heart and passion behind that mop of bushy curls - and that you deserved more respect than any other witch I've ever known," he confesses frankly.

"I - _what?_"

"Honestly, woman. How long are you going to take to figure this out? They said you were the brightest witch of our age."

Awkward pause.

"Wh-what?"

"Hermione, I'm in love with you."

"You're - what?"

"You are definitely not at the top of your game today."

"I told you - I'm a mess, what do you expect?"

"Well, at the very least, I expect you to leap and bound your way over here and snog me senseless, really."

"I suppose you'll have to content yourself with this, then," she laughs, standing up and striding over to him - _whack!_

He's delighted. "So you _do_ still care! I was right, after all."

She raises her hand for a second smack, but he grabs her wrist and pulls her in for something just as fierce - their lips meet in a flurry of passion and heat, undefined emotion as they pour their souls into each other. Her arms around his neck, his arms encircling her waist as he pulls her into his lap - his life in her hands, her life in his.

And outside, the rain streams down relentlessly.


	7. Drabble 7: Jealousies

**Title: **_Jealousies_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_I Write Sins Not Tragedies - Panic! At the Disco  
><em>**Summary: **_At Ron's wedding, Hermione overhears Blaise and Draco discussing the bride..._

* * *

><p>"Oh - I left my - er - purse back in the church," Hermione told Ginny. "You go on, I'll be there in a moment." She fled the wedding party, sick of Ron's attentions to his newlywed wife.<p>

The rest of the guests were still ambling out of the church and making their way to the restaurant across the street for the reception. Struggling through the throngs of people, she made her way towards the room. There were only two left inside - Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy.

Harry had sort of forced Ron to invite them, by way of their being his colleagues. Otherwise, they didn't really fit in this world, Hermione thought. Too - elegant and detached from everything. Detached. That was it. Especially Malfoy - he just couldn't be bothered about anything. They were talking - what were they saying?

"It's well done, so far, for a Weasley affair." That was Blaise.

Draco hummed in agreement. "And the restaurant is actually a fairly decent one. Although I suppose they had to do _something_ nice to make up for the bride." He let out a hollow laugh, while Blaise snickered in agreement.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, and she stopped herself from going inside. What came next?

"Weasel's never had good taste - remember when he was with the mudblood?"

She frowned, expecting no less from Blaise Zabini.

Draco didn't say anything - that was odd.

"God knows, at least _she _was better than an out-and-out whore, though. On second thought - maybe not. She was kind of-"

She heard shoes moving - and was that Blaise being slammed up against the wall?

Draco's breathing was forced - what was going on?

"Don't even _think _about comparing Granger with that - that - thing that he married."

"Whoa, whoa. Chill, Draco. _Chill._"

"Scum." There was the sound of Blaise sliding to the floor, and footsteps - and Hermione forgot all about her purse as she tore down the hall, getting as far as she could.

Draco saw the curly-haired figure running down the hall and cursed his luck. Someone _would_ have to eavesdrop - and that someone _would _have to be her.

Blaise came up behind him, holding an elegant black purse. "This was in one of the pews."

"It's hers. That's why she came back." Without another word, he took off after Hermione, checking doors and rooms and hallways for the missing witch.

"Draco!" his friend called. "What the bloody he- oops, I mean - what in Merlin's name is going on here?"

"Just - just go, Blaise. I need - just go." He disappeared from sight, and Blaise, sighing, went the other direction.

Finally - finally - he came to a locked door. The light was off inside, but he could hear the sobs emanating.

"Granger," he pounded. "Granger, open up before I blast the door down."

No response.

"Granger - I have your bloody purse, don't you want it?" The door opened slightly, and she stuck her hand out for the bag. Placing his hand carefully on the door, he applied enough pressure for it to open, despite her trying to push it shut.

With a wave of his wand, he locked the door and turned on the light.

"Malfoy, give me my purse and _leave_."

"You heard me talking to Zabini, didn't you, little eavesdropper?"

"I heard two people having a loud conversation in a public place as I returned to retrieve something that was rightfully mine. That's all. Give me the bag."

"You're telling me you have no interest whatever in what was said? Really, Granger. I find that hard to believe." _Or rather, I really hope that she does have interest, however little I want to admit it. _

"Look, what's done is done. Ron and Lav -"

"You mean Won-won and Lav-lav, but yes, continue." The smirk on his face was undeniable.

Glaring at him, she continued. "Ronald and Lavender are happy and wedded, and that's all that matters."

"Yes, at least they're together now."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked sharply.

"Only that before - they - well, this is rather delicate, and seeing as you have no interest anyway, there's no point-"

Her wand was at his throat. "Do finish your sentence, please. I beg of you." Soft. Dangerously so.

He swallowed. "Oh, come on, Granger. You must have seen it - you two were together for how long?"

"Two years."

"I don't need to ask to know that you never really shagged, did you?"

"Wha-"

"He got bored, Granger. You're too much of a prude for him. You held back too much."

"What are you on about?"

"Granger, he's been sleeping with Lavender for the past three years."

"They've only began together one and a half- oh. _Oh._" She paused. "And you thought this was going to make me feel any better?" There was a whole torrent of emotion running behind her stony gaze. Anger at the one who'd cheated on her. Sorrow that he hadn't bothered telling her. Distrust at the man spilling these secrets. Pain at her woeful loneliness. Self-pi - no. No, she would _not _feel sorry for herself. No, no, no. Still, maybe it was better to be - detached. Removed from the thick of things.

"Yes, well - I'd hoped it would help you see how much of a bloody git he is. I've been telling you that for years."

"You didn't neglect telling _me_ I was pretty foul myself."

"Only because you associated with him, really."

"'Mudblood' has nothing to do with Ronald, Malfoy. You were horrible to me-"

"You're so thick, Granger. So bloody thick. After hearing that conversation between me and Blaise - you really - come on, I had a better opinion of you than that."

"You had quite a charming way of expressing it, too. _Too _charming, really. To think you had an opinion of me that didn't involve the scum on your shoes - that's hard."

"_Granger_. Tell me I behaved like a stupid, immature, schoolyard boy - I probably did. But dammit-"

"You're in a church."

"So? Point is - I was pissed at you, for most of our years at Hogwarts. And so I insulted you every chance I got."

"You? Were ticked off by me? I'd never done _anything _to you, Malfoy."

"Besides associate with those two buffoons."

"Harry - is not - a buffoon!"

"Ron is?"

"That's neither here nor there."

"But it is! It's everything! You loved him, you wanted him, you were _his_, for Merlin's sake. And I hated every bit of that."

"Really. And I'm supposed to believe that's what pissed you off, I suppose?"

"You don't buy a word of what I'm telling you, do you?"

"What, that you were jealous of Ron and angry at me for picking him over you? No, I don't buy it. I don't even see why you're trying to sell it to me." Calm, calm, calm. Poise was everything. She was going to be _completely _logical about this. Rational & detached.

"Blast it," he growled, seizing her with both his hands and drawing her as close as humanly possible.

He was kissing her - and all her expectations of rough and fierce vanished. He was smooth, soft - gentle. Everything Ron had never been for her. His arms went around her protectively, holding her close, and breathing in the scent of her perfume.

After several moments, they pulled away.

"_Now _do you believe me?" he demanded, his arms still encircling her waist.

"I don't know what to think," she replied honestly. "I mean, considering that the one boy who always detested me just snogged me - and quite passionately, too - I don't even know what to say."

"Then don't say anything." He brought her in for another kiss, slightly more fierce - more charged. Maybe Draco Malfoy wasn't as detached as she'd thought he was. And maybe being in the heat of things wasn't such a bad place to be, either.

"Next time," she breathed, surfacing for air. "Just remember to shut the goddamn door."

Outside, Blaise joined Ginny listening in at the keyhole and offered her a glass of champagne. "Cheers?"

"Cheers," she grinned. "God knows it took them long enough."


	8. Drabble 8: Rocks and Hard Places

**Title: **_Between a Rock and a Hard Place_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_Woman - Maroon 5  
><em>**Summary: **_Broom closets and lilac perfumes - what does Draco do when a chance encounter haunts his thoughts day and night? _

* * *

><p>"Oof!" Hermione was dragged into a broom closet unceremoniously. "What on earth-" she began heatedly, before her mouth was covered by a not-too-familiar hand. Perfectly manicured fingernails, and the smoothest, silkiest skin she had ever seen - ever felt, rather. And it was pale. <em>Too<em> pale. Uh-oh.

"Shh, Granger! You'll get us caught if you don't keep your oversized mouth shut."

She was too offended to do more than splutter out an indignant question. "What are you on about, Malfoy?" His name came out like a curse - vile, something she would avoid saying at all costs.

"Would you please relax - and shut your bloody mouth? McGonagall's pacing the hallways - where were you off to, anyway, so late at night?"

"Library. Not that it's any of your business."

"Of course." His reply was as silky smooth as his skin.

Somewhat uncomfortable trying to stay as far from him as possible, Hermione shifted her weight a little bit. Her knees unlocked, and her back came off the wall as she stood up straight.

He, too, had similar thoughts, apparently, as he ceased leaning on the wall, bringing him even closer.

His ghosty breath dusted her cheeks as she looked down - right - left - anywhere but at those hateful mercury orbs. Merlin, but this was irritating. Wouldn't McGonagall just hurry up and finish her rounds already?

As she turned her head, he found his nose buried within her bushy brown curls. He made to draw away distastefully, but the scent emanating from her stopped him. She smelled - gorgeous - what _was_ that? _Lilacs_, he decided. _With a hint of jasmine. Elegant. I'm impressed. _He remained where he was, inhaling her fragrance.

And then - slowly - he placed his arms on the wall opposite, effectively trapping her. She noticed, not saying anything. It was slightly comforting, ironically enough. _Between a rock and a hard place? _she asked herself. _Hardly. _The thought scared her - just a little.

"You know," he insinuated quietly - too quietly, she thought. "I could sh-snog you till you saw stars right now, and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

"Really?" she challenged, her wand sliding up from her pocket to point at his neck. Her eyes finally met his - honey and steel. It wasn't long before the steel became pools of mercury, melting under her threatening gaze.

Not that she observed the ever-so-slight change in his expression.

"Point taken," he conceded.

"Not that you would, anyway." Continuing the conversation (especially to this end) was dangerous, she knew - but she did anyway.

"Because you're a filthy mudblood? Yeah, probably." The insult wasn't offensive, though - it held no malice whatsoever. "I'd do this, though." Drawing closer, he breathed softly on her cheek, painting a faint and invisible line with his breath down her neck.

The wand dug into his neck harder as she swatted him on his face, none too gently. He pulled away, satisfied at the response he had elicited from her. Who ever said Hermione Granger didn't care what Draco Malfoy did? He still got on her nerves, same as ever.

**oOo**

Bored in Charms class the next day, Draco found himself scanning the classroom, looking for someone. _Nope - only Ravencl-_ and then it hit him. _Am I really looking for Granger? That's fairly disgusting. _Still, he wasn't as turned off by the thought of her as he ought to have been.

Beside him, Pansy leaned closer. "You smell - like flowers, Draco." Her voice was half-accusatory.

"I - what?" He bent down, sniffing his own cloak - subtly, of course. Lilac - and a hint of jasmine. "That's strange - your perfume, perhaps?"

"Oh, ick. Flowers are so - old lady, Draco. _My _fragrances are much more fruit - surely you know that."

"Mmm. Right," he agreed, distracted, as he began doodling on a spare sheet of parchment. Too late, he realized that he was drawing a person - and that those curls - and those honey eyes - did not belong to his girlfriend, sitting next to him. Groaning, he crumpled up the parchment, Granger's face smiling naughtily up at him. She had no right to look that alluring. _And you have no right to be drawing her._

One period later, Hermione slid into Charms class, noticing a piece of crumpled up parchment. Curious, she unfolded it, smoothing it out on the desk in front of her. She gasped. It was a stunningly accurate portrayal, to be honest - and of her, no less. Muttering an incantation to reveal the owner, she brought it closer, recognizing the smell emanating from it. _My perfume. That's odd._

As the spell took effect, white letters wrote themselves across the portrait, spelling out the last name on earth she would have guessed - "_Draco?_" She'd have to talk to him about this. Neatly folding it, she dropped the parchment in her pocket, and forced herself to pay attention during class, despite having read all the material the night before. She had other things on her mind, anyway. Class, for once, wasn't very high on her list.

**oOo**

Not two days later, Draco found himself unceremoniously dragged into a certain broom closet.

"What-"

"Is _this?_" Hermione demanded, shoving the parchment in his face.

He was at a loss for words. Tell her - or no? The idea of telling her that she'd been haunting his dreams all day and night for the past 72 hours - no, he couldn't. Then again, lying didn't seem like the best idea, either. She'd _know. _She was Granger, for crying out loud. _Between a rock and a hard place? _Debating, he finally decided on a course of action. Placing his hands back where they'd been that other night, he drew close to her, practically pushing her up against the wall.

"Malfoy- answer my bloody - question - and stop - trying - to intimidate me!" Struggling, she finally succeeded in pulling out her wand.

"Intimidate? You find me intimidating, Granger?"

"No - but you're trying to put me in a weak position - and I won't have it!" The wand was back at his neck, and their eyes met.

Her honey orbs held a challenge that he simply couldn't resist. So maybe he was a _tiny _bit in love with her. Even if she was a mu-Granger.

His mercury eyes held a will of steel that would not bend. So maybe she was a _tiny _bit scared of him. Even if he was Malfoy.

"Answer me this, first - and then I'll explain the drawing." He paused. "If I snogged you, right now - what would you do?"

"Hex you."

"If I conveniently relieved you of your wand?"

"Punch you til you got a black eye."

"Good - that's what I like to hear," he breathed, brushing aside her hand at his throat and pressing his lips into hers. _Merlin, but this feels good. _It was such a - blessed relief, really.

She struggled until he pulled himself off of her - but not far enough to allow her room for movement. Though their faces weren't touching, the rest of their bodies were.

Hermione nearly laughed at the irony as she felt Malfoy's body on hers. _Trapped, again. _

"Do you still want me to explain that?" He nodded at the parchment. It had fluttered to the ground sometime in the past few moments; he wasn't wholly sure when it had left her hand. To be frank, she wasn't sure herself.

She shook her head. "Not necessary."

"Good. Because this _is _necessary." And once again, she was lifted up into some unworldly heaven of passion and kissing and Malfoy's lean, muscular body pushing her into the wall. _Between a rock and a hard place - maybe it isn't such a bad place to be, after all. _

For his part, he decided that rocks and hard places - well, it was all relative, really. And did it really matter which you chose, anyway? As long as it smelled like that heavenly blend of lilac and jasmine, nothing mattered.


End file.
